Beckett Michael Wilde - 1 Year

Happy Birthday,
Beckett Michael Wilde!

Dear Beckett,

Well, kid - you did it!  You made it to your first birthday not only surviving as the youngest of four crazy monkeys, but thriving as well!  As it did with your brothers and sister - this first year went by in a blink.  One minute I was unwrapping your swaddling blanket to marvel at your tiny newness, the next you were crawling like a madman to keep up with Jack, Eddie and Norah.  Oh, Little Bee.. Why can't you just stay as you are right now?  You have always been and are such a sweet and laid-back little spirit.  When people ask me if you're an 'easy' or 'good-natured' baby, I always respond with something along the lines of, "He is such an easy and happy baby!  I thought my first three were all pretty easy, but then I had Beckett."  And it's so true!  His very nature is just so mild-tempered that he never cried much and when he did all I had to do was snuggle him and he was content.  As he hit five months or so he discovered his fingers and was suddenly able to soothe himself.   And since he was six months old and in his own nursery as opposed to his snuggle-nest, I can count on one hand how many times I have had to soothe him in the middle of the night because he'll just plunk his two fingers in his mouth and calm right down.  It is probably one of the cutest things I've ever seen.  And, just like I was when Eddie stopped pulling on his ear when he was sleepy, I will be so sad when Beck decides he doesn't need to suck on his fingers anymore.

I never wrote about the horrible and wonderful experience we had with you when you were about eight weeks old, but I will now so you will know that Heavenly Father is - and always has been, mindful of you and that He does answer prayers.

***

When you were just two days old you were given the standard hearing (ABR) test in the hospital just like your siblings before you.  But instead of getting the little blue pamphlet announcing, "I passed my hearing test!" tucked neatly in your bassinet,  we got a notice that you had passed in your right ear, but not in the left so a retest would be required.  The nurse who delivered this information was not concerned in the slightest and said that many babies don't pass for various reasons:  vernix in the ears, tiny ear canals, etc., and that when you were retested in a month your ears would be more clear and a little bigger.  Your Daddy and I left feeling completely at ease about it and really didn't even give it much thought other than to schedule the retest.  

A little over a month later I took you to an ENT office (not the same office the hospital used/uses) where, after nursing you and snuggling you to sleep, you had the test repeated and passed in both ears.  Looking back I realize that it did take quite a while for the audiologist to get a reading from your left ear as compared to your right, but in the end she said you'd passed both sides and that was all I needed to hear.  

Three weeks later I received an afternoon phone call from the ENT office uptown (the one affiliated with the hospital you were born in) asking why we had missed your retest appointment.  I explained that our pediatrician had referred us to an office much closer to our home so I had taken you there instead.  I then told them you passed and all was well.  The woman calling then proceeded to tell me that the state of North Carolina requires that the test used for the re-screen needs to be the same test that had been failed.  In this case - the ENT office I had taken you to used an OAE test instead of the ABR test used by the hospital.

At this point neither your Daddy or I had had any idea that there were TWO standard hearing tests used or that you had been given two different ones as we hadn't been informed of this in the hospital or by the ENT we'd subsequently taken you to.  So we made another appointment for a re-screening at the hospitals uptown ENT office to make sure we were complying with NC law.  What came next was the beginning of one of the longest ten days of my life.

We made it to the re-screening - Daddy met me there to keep an eye on Norah while I nursed you in the waiting area (to perform the test accurately the patient needs to remain completely quiet and still - quite a difficult task for a newborn!  So they suggested I keep you awake for the nap preceding the appointment and then feed you just before hand so you would *hopefully* fall asleep.).  When we were called back the audiologist explained the ABR test while she attached little electrodes (I think that's what they're called) behind your ears and to your forehead.  She then reminded me to try to keep you as still as possible and to not talk as the test could pick up those soundwaves and be unable to get a correct result.  Being the good-natured and laid-back little man that you are you slept the entire time.  At the conclusion of the second ear she informed me (in nice words) that you had failed both ears.

This was still so foreign to me as I have a very, very minimal understanding of the auditory system and its  complexities, but I did know that you had just passed the OAE test so I was very confused about how you failed this test in not only your left ear, but your right ear as well!  Wanting to rule out equipment error before explaining what the next steps would be, the audiologist got another ABR testing machine and repeated the entire exam.  You were awake for part of this test, but laid quietly on my lap just observing.  The results were the same;  where a normal hearing pattern would have shown drastic peaks and valleys on graph readout, your lines were barely making small hills.  She then performed another test to determine if there was fluid in your ears that could be affecting the results.  There was none.  She explained that the OAE (Otoacoustic Emissions) tests only the function of the cochlea.  Hearing loss resulting from a cochlear defect can sometimes be corrected surgically.  The ABR (Auditory Brainstem Response) tests how the brain responds to/interprets auditory stimulation.  This kind of impairment cannot be treated surgically.  So while Beckett's ears were perfect in form and function, the ABR test was showing that his brain was not processing all five 'waves' of auditory response.     

At this point she had Justin come in with Norah and told us that because there was some motion to the graph lines it indicated that you didn't have a severe or profound hearing loss.  However, we would need to return for a much more extensive diagnostic test to determine the amount of hearing loss you actually had and which frequencies the hearing loss included.  (Maybe you could hear higher pitches just fine, but not lower ones.)  She explained that early detection and treatment with hearing aids was key to providing the best outcomes for children with moderate hearing loss since so much of their language pattern is processed in the first six months.  I was trying to process everything she was saying realizing that things were much more serious that we ever thought they would be when Daddy asked, "So how do we fix it?  Is there a surgery?"  I knew he didn't fully understand what she was trying to tell us - that there was no cure for this.  She gently repeated what she had just explained and then told us to try not to worry.  She said there was a chance that you could be fine - and when she said that I asked her how many patients she had seen fail the ABR test and then have the diagnostic testing show that they were fine.  She hesitated for a moment and then said, "It can happen."  I then asked for a percentage because I needed more hope than that and she again paused and then said, "It can happen."  I didn't continue to press her because Beckett hadn't just failed the test once; he had failed the test three times.  I was then too afraid of what percentage she might have given me.    

We scheduled your diagnostic appointment which was an agonizing ten-day wait.  I couldn't believe there were no earlier appointments and the receptionist promised to call if there were any cancellations that would get us in sooner.  (There were none.)  We silently loaded the kids into the car not knowing what to say and then drove to where I needed to drop Daddy off so he could go back to work.  He pulled the car over and I cried.  Daddy was pretty upset, but held it together for me.  We sat there for a little while talking about how surreal this all was and asking each other questions that neither of us knew the answers to.  Daddy said he was going to do a 24 hr. fast that weekend and give you a blessing - which brought me comfort.  I finally left to go pick up the boys from Nellie's house and when I got home I started researching everything I could about the ABR test and moderate hearing loss.  What I found were images of adorable babies with hearing aids looking completely out of place, secured to their ears.  Stories on forums from moms who had gone through the same experience we'd just had and how their children were now adapting to their hearing aids and so on.  

When Daddy got home he tried various things to see if you could hear him and I told him to stop even though I had been doing the same thing since I'd gotten home that afternoon.  Sometimes you would look, sometimes you wouldn't.. You were only eight weeks old so you were used to sleeping through loud noises and obviously couldn't communicate whether or not you could hear us.  That weekend Daddy did his fast and after Church on Sunday he gave you a beautiful blessing.  We were still anxious, but both of us felt like everything would be okay no matter what happened.  We had many discussions about 'what if' scenarios, researched the best options for babies/children with hearing loss, promised that we would do everything we could to make sure you had a normal childhood, and thanked Heavenly Father that if this were a trial that you would have to face then at least it wasn't a total hearing loss.   As an adult no one would even have to know with the advancements made in modern hearing aids; some styles aren't even visible externally!  We were grateful that it wasn't your sight that was affected, cancer, or any number of infinitely worse afflictions with potential to compromise your very life.  

With this resolve, wednesday finally came and Daddy and I drove you to the appointment.  A nurse took me to a small, darkened room where I nursed you while she prepped you for the test, placing the electrodes on your scalp and behind your ears.  When you were done and had fallen asleep lying on my chest, the audiologist came in and placed tiny earbuds connected to a computer in your ears.  She then reminded me to not make any noise and then began the diagnostic test.  Each side took about 30 minutes and between sides she didn't say one word or give any indication about the results.  I could see a series of graphs on the computer screen and watched as she clicked and typed various things, but none of it made any sense to me.  Her lack of reassurance made me anxious and certain that she had confirmed the ABR results.  Justin and I just sat there quietly - waiting for the second test to finish running and glancing at each other every so often with uncertainty.  

Finally, the second diagnostic finished and she made her series of clicks and adjustments completely stone-faced.  She then looked at us, finally smiled and said incredulously, "Both ears are functioning normally."  She then described to us what she had been looking at on the screen and showed that his response was well-within normal hearing at every frequency.  His hearing was, in fact, better than 'average' as she mentioned that many people have at least some degree of hearing loss, but never realize it because it's so minor.  She struggled to explain why he had failed the ABR test three times with three different machines - two of those times being merely ten days prior.  In fact, she had no explanation.  And we didn't need one.  We knew an answered prayer, a miracle, when we saw one.

Even typing this I wish I were able to convey the emotions that we had surrounding that period of time.  We had decided not to tell anyone the true nature of the situation or our true fears and feelings about it because we didn't have any answers and didn't want to alarm anyone.  I also believe that on some level we felt that talking about it would make it more real than we wanted to acknowledge to anyone other than each other.

***

We are so grateful and humbled to have your amazing little spirit be a part of our family.  I can't wait to see all of the many milestones you reach in this next year (hopefully walking will be one? ;) and watch as your personality continues to grow and develop.  

Enjoying the grass at Grandma and Grandpa Wilde's house in Oregon.    Isn't that the most adorable little profile?

This is the shirt I won from this awesome etsy store.  Thanks, Bri!  :)

Our little meatball. :)

"Okay, Mom?  How many pictures of me sitting on our uncomfortably dry and poky lawn do you need?"

"Squirrel."

Now for your one-year stats:

Height:  28.75 inches (20%)
Weight:  19 lbs. 4 oz.  (8%)
Head Circumference:  18.5 inches (70%)

Yep - you're a Wilde! :)

We love you so much, Beckett Micheal Wilde!

Love,
Mommy, Daddy, Jack, Eddie & Norah